


passive aggressive

by zhuzhubi



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Spencer Reid, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-prison Spencer Reid, he goes off, obviously in his passive aggressive way, reader is a graduate + medical student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhubi/pseuds/zhuzhubi
Summary: reader is a graduate student with an asshole of an advisor. reid goes off in their defense.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 112





	passive aggressive

**Author's Note:**

> a request from my tumblr @zhuzhubii
> 
> ...
> 
> i based this on my mom’s irl experience with her graduate advisor and my dad’s irl response lol. in line with that, reader in this is an MD/PhD student, which is what my mom did.

“I think you should reconsider continuing with research rather than pursuing residency with the intent of becoming a medical practitioner.”

You almost can’t believe your ears - you knew Dr. Marcus, your PhD advisor, was a bit of an elitist asshole, but this is just too much. You’ve made it very clear that you have every intention of becoming a clinician and will not be returning to research after you’ve completed your degree - you don’t know if you could have _possibly_ made it any more clear to this _douche-whistle_ \- 

He leans forward at his desk, a slimy smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. It makes you instinctively recoil, and your advisor’s eyes flash at the action, practically drinking in your unease. His voice is just as grating and condescending as it usually is when he finally continues, “It would _behoove_ you to reconsider - I don’t know if I can condone a mind like yours going to waste when you have so much potential in our field of research.”

Your face is slack with shock, your jaw dropping a little as a strangled noise escapes your throat - _is he really…? No, no way. I must be reading this wrong, I must be!_

“Y-you can’t seriously be saying that…,” you suck in a shuddering breath, trying to compose yourself as his devilish grin just grows and grows, “T-that, what, you won’t approve my thesis if I don’t stay in research? I’ve been working on it for almost four years and you’ve never had a problem with it before -”

He slowly rises from his seat, so unsettlingly calm as he glances over his expensive desk ornaments, a blatant acknowledgement of his position of power. You spring to your feet and rise on your hackles, barely able to keep yourself from wilting under his predatory gaze. He tuts his lips and it suddenly becomes clear to you that this has been his plan all along, perhaps since even before he met you in person.

“(y/n)…,” he sits back on the edge of his desk, his confidence with his command of the situation both irritating and terrifying, “It would be such a shame for my lab to lose a… _mind_ …like yours.”

You try to think of a response, but it’s like your voice is caught in your chest - _I’ve worked so, so hard for this and some-some scumbag advisor is going to take it away from me now? Less than two months away from finally finishing?_

While you stand there gaping like a fish, your advisor smiles and starts collecting his things, packing them away in a slick briefcase and heading toward the door. Just before leaving, he pauses and turns back to you ever-so-slightly and says, “I expect you’ll have made a decision by the end of the week,” before turning and walking out, leaving you standing stock-still in his immaculate office.

You let your eyes glide over the plaques and framed degrees and find yourself thinking - _it wouldn’t be so bad, would it? I’d still be helping people in research, it’s still important and fulfilling work. And residency is supposed to be hell anyway, do I really want to go through all that?_

_Yes, yes I do, you shoot back at yourself, I’ve wanted this since I was a little kid, I-I…I can’t lose it all now, not when I’m so close!_

Right there in your elitist asshole of an advisor’s office you start to cry - not out of sadness or even anger, but from frustration. Frustration that he has this kind of power over you, that even if you decided to suck it up for the sake of your degree, you’d still be reliant on him for a letter of recommendation. But what are you supposed to do? The school is more likely to believe him - a highly acclaimed faculty member - over you, and anyway he never confirmed anything outright. 

You don’t know what to do, so you steel yourself and push down your tears, take a deep breath and manufacture a calm demeanor. You have a few days left to figure it out, it’ll be fine. 

…

When Spencer comes home from a case two days later it is decidedly _not fine_ at all - he walks in the door to find you standing over the kitchen table with papers strewn around everywhere, rifling through them with eyes glassy from lack of sleep and unshed tears. He drops his go-bag and hurries over to you without even taking off his satchel, pulling out a chair and trying to get you to sit down.

It’s almost as if seeing him takes the fight right out of you - you’re so tired of trying to figure this out and not finding a solution and not being able to sleep and -

You collapse down into the chair, Spencer’s hands warm and soothing on your shoulders, and stare down at your lap, your own hands worrying at the booklet held between them. He furrows his brow and gently tugs it from your grasp - it’s a print-out of the Code of Ethics for Educators, the pages wrinkled and slightly damp from your sweaty palms (and dotted with the occasional tear).

It’s the first time you really start to process what’s happening, what might happen if your advisor gets his way, and you start to sob - choked noises forcing their way up your throat and salty tears collecting in your eyes. Spencer sucks in a worried breath and scoots his own chair closer, pulling you into a hug and smoothing a hand over the back of your head, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and whispering, “Shh, shh, it’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

He holds you like that until your shoulders stop shaking, and then he holds you some more, the soft lull of his chest calming you as you run out of tears. He mutters, “What happened?” careful to keep his voice low and soft, stroking circles over your back.

It takes you a moment to get the words out, and when you finally manage it your voice is cracked and teary, “M-my advisor…he-he’s trying to force me into research.”

You can feel the wave tension ripple through Spencer’s body before he manages to tame it for your sake, “W-what do you mean?”

You suck in a shaky breath and continue, “He’s not going to approve my thesis unless I agree to stay in his lab! He said my mind would be going to waste as a medical practitioner -”

“What!? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard -”

“I know, _I know_ ,” you reply, clinging to him tighter and letting out a defeated sigh, “But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I mean, he’s this…super well-acclaimed guy, who’s gonna believe me? And I can’t just walk away from my degree, not after spending almost four year on it! Maybe I should just -”

“No, no. Absolutely not,” Spencer interrupts you, drawing back to look you in the eye, “You will not throw your dream away over this-this _asswipe_.”

You can’t help but giggle a little at the insult, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. But then you remember - _what the fuck am I supposed to do about this, though? I’m relying on said_ asswipe _for my degree and any recommendations -_

“But what am I supposed to do?” you shake your head a little, a crease forming in between your brows.

Spencer’s response is to press a soft kiss to your forehead and say, “I’ll take care of it,” his lips lingering on your skin as he mutters the words.

You pull back a little, worry now building in your chest, “Y-you’ll _take care of it?_ Spencer, I don’t want you to get in trouble over me -”

“(y/n),” he thumbs over your cheek and you lean into his hand without thinking, drawing comfort from the warmth of his palm, “I have experience with graduate advisors too, you know. I’m just going to talk to him - I won’t get in trouble, you don’t need to worry.”

“You’re sure,” you reply after a pause, tilting your head as you look at him. 

His face melts into a gentle smile, knowing you’ve already decided to let him help. “I’m sure,” he replies, “I’m not gonna let anyone stand in between you and your dream - you’re gonna be an amazing doctor, I just know it.”

And you’re still worried, of course you are, but his words - the way he’s so confident that you’ll succeed - make you feel better. It’s not that you _need_ his approval, per se, in fact you don’t at all. But it’s always nice to know your significant other is in your corner, ready to pull out all the stops and fight for you when you’ve been wronged. 

…

Spencer calls in sick the next morning - he’s not very good at faking it, but he so rarely takes a day off that Hotch lets it slide - and gets dressed in a smart blazer and tie. It’s a little more formal than what he wears on a daily basis, and you know it’s so he comes across as high status and important - he doesn’t usually put so much of an effort into what other people think of him, and while you much prefer his soft cardigans and sweater vests, it’s nice that he’s putting in so much of an effort just for you.

(Although, you really should have expected that - Spencer never does anything by halves, least of all defending the people he loves)

He fixes you a mug of tea when you’re too nervous to eat and barely lets go of your hand from the time you wake up to when you’re standing outside of your advisor’s office door. Spencer gives your hand a squeeze and guides you in taking a deep breath before letting go - you know it’s for the sake of Dr. Marcus’ perceptions, but you still miss the warmth of his palm against yours. 

He gives you a short nod and a reassuring smile before knocking on the door, his gentle expression melting away into thinly veiled irritation. You hear a muffled, “Come in!” from within and the sound of your advisor’s voice sends a chill down your spine. Almost as if he can sense the tension building in your chest, Spencer reaches over to brush over your arm one more time before turning back to the door and pushing it open.

Your advisor looks between you and Spencer, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly before he gets ahold of himself. “What can I do for you?” he asks, directing his attention fully at Spencer and drawing himself up in his chair, trying to match Spencer’s height without making it too obvious.

Spencer gives him an almost condescending smile, pulling himself up to his full height as your advisor gestures toward the chairs in front of his desk instead of moving to seat himself. His voice is calm and soft when he speaks, so much so that you can barely detect the anger you know is hiding just below the surface -

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

You can identify the exact moment that your advisor recognizes the name, his hackles bristling as he replies, “Dr. Pang’s favorite guest lecturer. Your degree is in…physics, if I remember correctly?”

“And chemistry and engineering, yes. I don’t actually use my physics degree all that much anymore, so it’s nice to teach Cindy’s students sometimes. You know, to brush up on my knowledge,” Spencer replies and Dr. Marcus swallows nervously - you bite your lip to hide a smirk (you notice Spencer’s lips twitching beside you, but he makes much less of an effort to hide it)

“And what do you…use your degrees for, if you don’t mind me asking?” Dr. Marcus can’t help but ask, and Spencer really does smirk this time.

“Oh I work down in Quantico with the FBI,” he casually replies, being purposefully vague.

“Ah, I hear a lot of classified _lab work_ goes on down there,” your advisor replies, and you almost laugh at the false assumption.

“It does, yes,” Spencer nods, “And I assist on projects from time to time, but that’s not what I was recruited for.”

Dr. Marcus starts to waver, his gulp almost audible as he continues, “…and what were you… _recruited_ for?”

Spencer smiles down at him, tilting his head a little as he replies, “I’m a field agent with the BAU, actually - that’s the Behavioral Analysis Unit, if you weren’t aware. We use criminal profiling to catch serial killers, rapists, arsonists, pedopiles…Anyway, I’ve been with my team since I was twenty-two. That’s, what, eight or nine years now?” 

Dr. Marcus doesn’t have a response for that, though he sucks in a nervous breath at the implication of Spencer’s job - it’s obvious to you that Spencer’s already won, and the lingering worry in your chest starts to fade.

And awkward silence - for your advisor at least - passes before he realizes Spencer isn’t going to continue without prompting. Dr. Marcus clears his throat, grumbling out, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr. Spencer Reid of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Spencer takes a step closer to your advisor’s desk, peering down at him with his hand resting casually in his pockets, “Oh, nothing in particular, just thought I’d come say hello. (y/n)’s told me a lot about you, you know.”

“Really,” Dr. Marcus replies, glancing pointedly in your direction, “All good things, I expect?”

“Oh yes, definitely,” Spencer takes another step forward, his legs almost touching the desk now, “All… _fantastic_ things. It’s just that you’ve been such a big part of their life these past few years, and thought I ought to…pay you a visit at least once before they graduate.”

Dr. Marcus just swallows and shifts nervously in his seat. When he doesn’t respond, Spencer leans in a little and says, “I look forward to seeing you at graduation. And I expect that you’ll congratulate (y/n) for being accepted into a residency program once it happens, do I make myself clear, _Dr. Marcus_?”

The slimy man sucks in a breath before collecting himself and muttering, “You do, _Dr. Reid_ ,” averting his eyes as sweat beads at his brow.

“Good,” Spencer replies, his voice suddenly returning to the gentle cadence you’re used to hearing, “Have a nice day, _Doctor_ , it was nice to meet you.”

He turns on his heels and walks out the door, leaving you to glance over Dr. Marcus one last time as he sinks into his seat. As soon as you make it back out into the hall and close the door behind you, Spencer pulls you into a hug, leaning his chin on your shoulder and mumbling, “Why didn’t you tell me your advisor was such an asshole?”

“I dunno,” you whisper in response, “It…I didn’t think it was that bad. And I didn’t want to bother you -”

“You could never bother me,” he interrupts, pressing kisses into your jawline and smoothing circles over your back, “It’s impossible.”

You hum in response, letting Spencer rock you in his arms - you’re not sure if it’s for your comfort or his, but you’re grateful either way. You still have a few more months before you can say goodbye to Dr. Marcus forever, but you have a feeling he won’t be bothering you anymore. And if he does, you have Spencer Reid - the king of being passive aggressive - to put him in his place. 


End file.
